by Matt Rand
Austin frowned. “I can’t see it. I think I know where your trouble lies. You moved in on an old town where there would naturally be claims. I was fortunate in getting virgin territory. You’re blaming the Mexican government for a purely local problem.”
“Is De Witt having trouble?”
“I’ve heard of none.”
Nelson’s eyes darkened. So he was the only one at outs with the Mexican government. He leaned forward and said vehemently, “Don’t you see what’s happening? The Mexican government no longer wants us in Texas. But rather than go after all of us at once, they’ve picked me. If we don’t band together, all of us will go.”
Austin’s eyes were alarmed. “What you’re proposing is rebellion.”
“No,” Nelson snapped. “Only a proposal to force the Mexicans to live up to their agreement. Families have moved here because of that agreement. They stand to lose everything if it’s broken.”
Austin said in a distressed voice, “I can only counsel patience. Don’t do anything rash. Let time work out your problems.”
Nelson stood up. The interview was over. He said in a low, controlled voice, “You’ll see, Stephen. You’ll see.”
He moved toward the door, and his step was heavy. This long trip had gained him nothing. He turned his head and looked at Austin. The man stared into space, worry wrinkles furrowing his brow. Something had been gained, Nelson decided as he went down the street. Some disturbing seeds had been planted in Austin’s mind. And if events went as Nelson was certain they would, perhaps those seeds would sprout and flourish.
Chapter Twelve
Nelson knew something akin to hatred as he rode down Nacogdoches’ main street. This was going to be the splendid town built from dreams into something substantial and shining, a town to which a man could point with pride and say, “This is my town.” Instead, it was dirty and filled with shifty-eyed people.
This town would grow into what he dreamed if he were let alone, if Saucedo fulfilled the promises in the granted contract, if Payne and his element were driven out.
“I should have driven them out the first thing,” he muttered. “By gun, if necessary. I waited too long.” But he had not known then all the things he knew now. That course of action was still open, and his mind shied from it. “Only as a last resort,” he muttered. For when he moved against Payne and Tribble, Saucedo would move against him.
He tied up in front of his office and moved toward the door.
Leah looked at his face. “Was it that bad, Nelson?”
“It wasn’t good,” he said. “Austin is living in a dreamer’s paradise.” He grinned ruefully as he realized what he said. “Just as I did until recently. He believes in Saucedo’s fairness.”
She came to him and he kissed her, pulling strength from her nearness. She drew back and said, “Couldn’t he be right, Nelson?”
“I asked myself that question all the way back,” Nelson said. “I keep getting no.” His tone hardened. “I’m preparing for whatever’s going to happen. Did Chauncey locate Hunter?”
“I believe he’s in town.”
Something in the fleeting expression of her eyes warned him that an unspoken trouble was on her mind. “What is it, Leah? What went wrong?”
She sighed and said, “Elisha Maddy left two days ago. He went back to Natchitoches. He said to tell you he couldn’t put up with the taxes any longer.”
Nelson’s eyes went bleak. Maddy was only the first.
There would be a general exodus if these conditions were allowed to continue.
“Elisha was a good man,” he said slowly. “I hate to think of him gone.”
“He believes that if you hold what you have it will come to a fight. He’ll join a fight, but he won’t sit around and be bled. He said to tell you he’s certain other men in Natchitoches will join you. He wants you to let him know when you need them.” Her eyes were frightened. “Will it come to that, Nelson?”
“It may,” he said harshly. He thought it would. He would remember Maddy’s offer. He said, “I’ve got to find Hunter, Leah.”
He moved to the door, looked down the street, and stopped. Stevens and Hunter were coming down the street.
Hunter came into the building and briefly touched Nelson’s hand. He said in an expressionless voice, “You wanted to see me?”
He was a thin man, burned as brown as any Indian. His hair was long and unkempt, falling over the collar of his greasy buckskin jacket. He wore filthy moccasins and buckskin trousers, and the nails of his hands were broken and dirty. His black eyes were wary with suspicion, and his mouth was as thin and cruel as a knife scar. He rolled a cud of tobacco about in his cheek, then spat an amber stream onto the floor. He was uncouth in manner and dress, but Nelson had talked to him enough in Mexico City to know that a keen mind was behind that unimposing exterior.
“Yes, I wanted to talk to you. Did you ever get land for your Indians?”
The question unleashed Hunter’s tongue, and Nelson waited patiently for the tirade against the lying promises of all white men to run down.
“Every promise to the Indians has been broken,” Hunter said passionately. “Every treaty has been ignored. The Cherokees were lured west of the Mississippi with lying promises. They were driven out of Missouri and into Texas. With all this vacant land, I thought the Mexican government would surely give some of it to homeless people.” A fleeting, bitter expression twisted his face. “I received nothing from them but lies.” His hot eyes went from face to face as though daring anyone to deny his words.
“Will the Indians follow you?”
“They will follow me,” Hunter said proudly. “I’m the only white man who never broke his word to them. I have Comanches, Kickapoos, Shawnees, and Cherokees. People who used to fight each other, but now united.” His eyes flashed. “The day will come—”
Nelson held up his hand. “Maybe sooner than you expect,” he interrupted. “You’re certain the chiefs accept your leadership?” He grinned faintly at the suspicion in Hunter’s eyes. “I’m asking for a purpose.”
Hunter nodded. “They will. Richard Field and Rowles both speak English. They have listened to the whites’ lies and understand them. Ne-Ko-Lake and Ku-To-Ke will do as the other two say.”
“For your help in freeing Texas from the Mexicans, would you accept the northern half of Texas for your people?”
Hunter’s eyes were unveiled for a brief flicker, and Nelson saw the longing in them. The man’s sighing breath was barely perceptible; then the eyes hardened again with cold wariness.
“I may be fighting for my right to stay here,” Nelson said. “Saucedo is deciding in favor of Payne and his kind.”
“Saucedo,” Hunter said, putting a boundless contempt into his voice. “I have listened to his promises, too.”
His implication was plain, and Nelson said patiently, “You have only my word, John Hunter.”
Hunter studied him for a long moment. He growled, “So far, I have not heard of your breaking it—to anyone.” He said it reluctantly. “I will talk to my people.” He put a burning glance on each of them in turn before he stalked to the door.
Stevens let out a careful breath. “I didn’t know you planned to use him.”
“Not ‘use,’” Nelson corrected. “I meant every word I said to him.”
Stevens’ eyes had the old bright interest. “Is it coming to a fight, Nelson?”
“I’m afraid it is,” Nelson said slowly. He looked at Leah. “Get a letter off to Maddy. Tell him to start rounding up his men. We may be calling for them sooner than he expects.”
He walked outside, and Stevens fell into step with him. “I talked to Austin,” Nelson said. “While he didn’t promise to come in with us, I believe he will, when he sees the truth. His colony will be invaluable to us. They even have a cannon, a brass four-pounder called Marley Waller. With it we can storm the garrison in San Antonio, if necessary. There’s less than a thousand Mexican troops in all Texas. Most of them won’t ev
en fight. The rest are poor, at best. Louisiana doesn’t want a foreign government up against her. With her help, the Indians’, and Austin’s—”
“We can win,” Stevens finished for him. He looked across the street, and the flame in his eyes vanished, leaving them filled with shadows.
Nelson followed his gaze. Melissa moved down the opposite side of the street. She carried a small parasol, and her bonnet and dress were new. She had a fixed smile on her face, and her walk was not quite steady.
Nelson felt the ice of accusation in Stevens’ eyes and said irritably, “I have things to do, Chauncey,” and moved from him.
He felt Stevens’ eyes on his back. What was wrong with him now? Did he still suspect that Nelson O’Shaughnessy was interested in her?
Chapter Thirteen
In the house that Payne had provided for Melissa, he looked at Tribble and asked, “Did you find out why Hunter was in town?”
Tribble said, “Who can find out anything from that Indian? He spent some time with Stevens, and he went to see O’Shaughnessy.”
Payne tapped his teeth with a forefinger. “O’Shaughnessy went down to see Austin.” The crooked grin appeared on his face. “Sounds as though he might be getting kinda frantic.”
Melissa came into the room and leaned over to put her arms about him. She lost her balance and lurched against him, and her breath against his face was thick with whisky.
His hands were rough as they went to her shoulders and straightened her. “Melissa, I’m busy.” His voice was sharp. She was getting wearisome with her constant demands.
She drew back and pouted. “You’re always busy.”
Payne caught the sly grin on Tribble’s face. His glare wiped it away. He said, “What is it now?”
“Father needs money.” Her eyes were defiant, daring him to refuse.
He pondered that expression. It was typically female. A woman used her submission as a club over a man, threatening with that club at the slightest suggestion of a refusal to her demands. He thought cynically, A woman never really submits.
He felt the heat of anger run along his veins. She overestimated the power of that club. This affair had run into aspects he had not anticipated. She had won out in her insistence that she have a house in town, when he had wanted her to stay in camp. She could learn no information for him here. He doubted that she even spoke to O’Shaughnessy now. No, she had cleverly used him. He had certainly not expected to support her drunken father. And this thing of having to slip in and out of her house was getting on his nerves.
“You cannot come and go openly,” Melissa had said. “Think of my reputation.”
He grinned sourly at the recollection of her words. She was worrying a little late about that angle.
He pulled some coins from his pocket and said, “That’s all he gets. He can spend more money than a drunk Indian.”
Her eyes spat at him, but she turned and left the room without speaking.
His sigh was relieved. Melissa in one of her tantrums was something to handle. But she still was amusing.
That sly grin was on Tribble’s face, and Payne snapped, “Get that grin off your face and listen to me. I want you to take three or four barrels of whisky to Chief Bowles. Tell him they’re from me. I’ve known him for quite a time. We always got along. You might let drop the idea that Hunter is throwing in with O’Shaughnessy, that he’s tired of fighting for the red man. We’ve got Saucedo with us, and I don’t think Austin will be damn fool enough to jeopardize his standing. We’ll spike Mr. O’Shaughnessy’s guns before he even knows he has any.”
Tribble stood up, and Payne said, “Use the back door.” His eyes dared Tribble to comment.
Tribble nodded and left the room.
Melissa came in again, her eyes still angry. “You embarrassed me before him,” she said.
“Oh, hell, Melissa. Stop it.”
She wore a dress with a low-cut, tight-fitting bodice, revealing the enticing swell of her breasts. He stared at that neckline, and his blood quickened.
“Come here,” he said, reaching for her.
She backed from him and said stubbornly, “We’re going to have an understanding.”
His eyes sparked with quick anger. She was damned right; they were going to have an understanding.
She said, “Jim,” at the look in his eyes, and fear touched her face.
The knock on the front door stopped his advance toward her. He jerked his head around, stared at the door, then ordered, “See who that is. And get rid of them.”
She opened the door, and Jarmon said, “I want to see Payne.”
She said, “He isn’t here.”
Jarmon swept her aside with a beefy arm and growled, “I know he’s here. I want to see him.”
He stepped into the room, and she followed him, rubbing her breast where the arm had landed.
“Jim,” she cried. “Throw him out.”
Payne’s face was raw and violent. “Didn’t I tell you never to come here?”
Jarmon shook his head stubbornly. “I’m tired of waiting, Payne,” he rumbled. “You promised me I could have her. I’m going to do something about it myself.”
Payne snapped, “You won’t do a damned thing until I say so. You touch her now and you stir up a hornet’s nest. O’Shaughnessy is wild enough as it is. You’ll force him into action we’re not ready for. He’s hanging himself. Give him time to do the job right, for Christ’s sake.”
Jarmon’s gaze wavered before the hot probing of Payne’s eyes. He moved to the front window and stared out into the street.
Payne came up beside him and said in a softer tone, “Hobe, keep your head.” He might need this man later, and he wanted to keep him pacified. “A few more days or a week won’t matter.” His anger came back as he realized Jarmon was not listening to him.
“There she is,” Jarmon said in a thick voice. “I want her.”
Payne stared across the street. Leah was moving down the opposite side. She had a clean-limbed grace that caught a man’s eyes. She carried her head with pride, and a serene smile was on her face.
Payne found his own breath quickening. She was something to stick in a man’s mind, but she was not for this clod; she would never be for him. The thought almost exploded his anger into violence.
He did not realize he was staring at Leah; he did not realize his eyes mirrored his interest. He had forgotten that Melissa was there.
All thoughts of keeping Jarmon pacified were gone from Payne’s mind. He jabbed a thumb into Jarmon’s biceps and said viciously, “Stay away from her, Hobe. I’m telling you for the last time.”
He turned on his heel and strode across the room. He looked at Melissa in passing and snapped, “I’ll be back later.”
* * * *
She heard the back door slam, and her eyes were small and cruel. Jarmon still stood at the window, his face mottled with slow-spreading anger.
She said, “Come here.” She wanted him away from that window, away from where anyone could see them. His eyes were indifferent as he looked at her, and that added to the fury in her breast.
He came to the center of the room, and she said, “I can help you get that woman.”
That drove the dullness from his eyes, and she wanted to slap him.
He said, “How?”
“If I get her away from camp, will you be there to take her?”
Jarmon’s nod was eager. “How you going to do that? I’ve hung around that camp night after night. She never goes outside it.”
Melissa took a deep breath. “Do you know the clump of live oaks about two hundred yards south of the camp? If I bring her that far, can you do the rest?”
Jarmon said hoarsely, “You bring her that far.”
She bent her head toward him, and her voice dropped to a low murmur as she discussed details.
* * * *
Forrest Goedeke came to the door of the room and looked in. His face was bloated from too much whisky, and his head swam with it. He
was drunk, but not too drunk to see that Melissa was into something. His eyes brightened. He had no doubt that it would be turned into profit. His daughter had a knack of making profit out of a man. He threw up a hand in time to stifle a hiccup. He would follow that big bear of a man and see what was happening. And perhaps some of that profit would rub off on him. He recalled the few coins Melissa had doled out a short time ago and remembered to hold his snort. He backed out of the doorway. Melissa and her parsimonious ways.
* * * *
Leah’s face was troubled as she put away the last of the supper dishes. A courier from San Antonio had interrupted Nelson in the middle of the meal, and she remembered the black look on his face as he read the letter from Saucedo. It was frightening to see such rage in a man’s eyes.
Nelson had dismissed the messenger before he discussed the letter with her. “It’s come, Leah.” His voice trembled with his passion. “Saucedo writes that Austin has informed him of my attempt to enlist Austin’s forces. He accuses me of willfully plotting against his government, and he’s referring the matter to Don Victor Blanco in Saltillo.”
“What now, Nelson?”
“Blanco will order me out,” Nelson had replied grimly.
“With Saucedo’s reports to color his judgment, there can be no other answer. I’ll be ready for that order.”
He had plunged away into the darkness, a man beset with too many grave problems. She hoped he would come back soon. She felt so helpless, and she wanted so badly to help. What could a woman say or do? She shook her head. She wished she knew.
Melissa said, “Leah,” before Leah realized she was near.
She looked up and said, “Yes?”
“Could I talk to you, Leah?”
Leah felt a stab of curiosity. Melissa was obviously agitated. She glanced nervously about her, and her hands twisted at each other.
Leah said, “Of course.” She reached for a camp chair, and Melissa shook her head.
“Can’t we go somewhere where curious eyes won’t be watching us?” she implored. “It’s about Nelson. I loved him very much, Leah.”